The “then and now” profile meme on Facebook right now has inspired me to finally make a post I’ve been contemplating for several years. For several years now, people have commented on the amount of weight I have lost, and have asked me about it when they see me. I’ve been considering a way, and a time, to tell this story online.

This meme, it seems to me, provides as good an excuse as any to do it now. It’s not really the point of the meme. Like most of what I write, it’s too long.

But when did I ever follow instructions?

In 2008, I weighed 300 pounds. I never officially saw that number on a scale. I stopped weighing myself at 293. And I know I gained significantly after I stopped weighing myself. So, it might have been more than 300 for all I know. But I’m certain it was at least that.

I was pastor at Northaven. Dennise was a judge. We were in our new building and, actually, things were going GREAT.
Externally.

But you could overlay charts of this numeric growth at Northaven (total number of members, members per year, or yearly worship attendance…take your pick) with a chart of my weight gain. And they would be just about the same upward curve at about the same chronological time.

I want to be clear that I am not blaming the Church for my problems. I own what I did to my own body, completely. I *am* saying, to cope with stress and worry, food had become my unhealthy addiction-of-choice.

I would binge eat, late at night. Out of sight from everyone. Often. And often excessively.

There is a famous story in our family. A woman named Kaye at the church makes the world’s best pound cake. No joke. She gave me a full pound cake (large bundt cake size…) on a Sunday, to take home to the family.

The next week, she asked Dennise “So, how was the pound cake?”
Dennise said, “What pound cake?”

I had binged the entire thing. In the car. Probably in about, oh, 36 hours or so.

I had stopped all exercise. I would binge other horrible foods. And I was conscious —completely conscious and aware— of how bad it was for me. Literally as the food went into my mouth…a bag of cookies…half a jar of peanut butter…there was a small voice me saying “this is really bad for you.”

But I did it any way. It felt good, satisfying, and soothing….even as it always felt horrible….sometimes only moments later.

I could not stop myself. I did not want to.

That’s what addiction is, of course.

I had been in the hospital once already with heart palpitations, but somehow that had not gotten my attention.

What *did* get my attention were several events that happened in succession. These events were months, and even years, apart from each other. You see, the choice to make change in my life took YEARS, not just a few weeks or even months.
And not just years to DO. Years to just even to “decide to do.”

The first event that got my attention was that my dear friend, Rev. Tim McLemore, took me to lunch. We went to Whole Foods on Preston Road, blocks from the church. We sat in the little cafe, no doubt eating healthy food. We talked about life, family, church….what friends do when they “catch up.”

And then, at some point, Tim turned the conversation to my health.

He said something like, “Eric, I’m concerned about you….I notice that you have gained quite a lot of weight…” (I looked a lot like that 2008 picture…)

He was the first and only human being to have the courage to stay this to me.

I said, “Yes…yes, I have.”

I guess I figured eventually somebody would say something.

He then said something like, “Well, I’m just worried about you….I hope you’re OK.”

I assured him that I was.

And then, he finally said, “Well, I want you to be around for a long time…I just don’t want you to die early.”

I don’t know what I said in reply. I’m sure I thanked him for his concern.

Inside? I was PISSED. I was ANGRY.

I was thinking “Who the HELL are you to talk to me this way?!”

Whatever I said, I said nicely and sweetly.

You know, like we pastors do.

I wasn’t passive-aggressive, I was “pastorally-aggressive.”

(It’s a thing…)

It’s now months later from this encounter. We are on vacation with Maria. We are in New York. We are walking the streets of Manhattan, and up and down long staircases. And I cannot keep up with my teenaged daughter. I’m constantly out of breath. I’m at times secretly gasping for air. And I’m remembering Tim’s words…I realized I wanted to live to see my daughter grow up. I was, for the first time, afraid that I might not.

“Well, I want you to be around for a long time…I don’t want you to die early.”

A picture from that trip (we also went to Fenway Park for an afternoon). We used it for a digital Christmas card that year.

Sometime soon after this, Carole Carsey was the chair of the Staff Parish Committee at Northaven. Carole was a polio survivor, and one of the deepest spiritual souls I have ever known in my life. She was paralyzed from the neck down. And so conversations with her sometimes had long pauses for her breathing machine. Sometimes, the long pauses were simply to let a thought hang.
She reminded me of Yoda, as she calmly sat in her motorized wheelchair.

Anyway, I met with her monthly to talk about the church and my life. And Carole *always* brought up my physical health as being important. At her direction, Staff Parish talked about this very issue in their meeting. The *pushed* me to take the time for my health…insisting that I do so….saying that they and the church believed it to be important. I cannot emphasize how important it was for me to have this support of church leaders, to have them give me “permission” to do what I was not doing for myself.

Around this time, I also started carefully watching the people that I would visit in the hospital, including some family members. And I started noticing a marked difference in recovery for those people who were in relatively good shape, verses those who were not. (Regardless of age…) This was a real gift of making many hospital visits, over many years, to many different people.

My own parents, for example, had worked hard on their health. They looked a decade-younger than their chronological age. I thought about that.

My Mom was often mistaken as the “younger sister” when compared with her actual “younger sister.” She looked maybe ten years younger than her younger sibling. (Who has since died…) I thought about that.

I got into group therapy…a practice I continue to this day, to work through some of my own issues….some of the things that might be leading me into my addictive behaviors. I thought about a lot of things there, that I won’t share here.

I started to consciously think about food as my drug of choice and the long term affects of that drug. And I remembered a small line from a David Wilcox song, “The Terminal Tavern.”

The title is about a forgettable bar that David once played, and he is trying to describe a depressing bar with a humorous little story. About the people in the bar, David Wilcox says this:

The line gets a big laugh from the crowd in the live recording.
A big, hearty laugh of painful recognition.

I started thinking about Tim McLemore, and about that vacation with Maria (now maybe a year prior…). I started to think about all those hospital patients with vastly different outcomes. (They weren’t just statistics…I’d *seen* it with my eyes). I started to think very DEEPLY about this line “time release suicide,” and how painfully prescient and true it was. It slowly, steadily, dawned on me that this was exactly what I was doing….and that maybe it was what a LOT of us were doing.

I was committing time-release suicide.

Simultaneous to these insights, Dennise started doing a lot of reading about food and health. She pushed me to read up too.

Michael Pollan.

The film, “SuperSize Me.”

I started to learn about food manufacturing and how fast food makers literally have created labs where they TRY to develop highly addictive foods to push on us. I started learning more about food as fuel, and more about portion-size-creep.

For example, a “large” soft drink at McDonalds in the 1950s is now smaller than a “child’s” drink today.
And 7-11 sells Super Duper Big Gulps that are, quite literally, larger than the adult human stomach.

I started to realize that, yes, I am an addict. But ALSO that society itself was peddling these foods. Society, corporations, were the “pusher.” They WANT us addicted.

It started to dawn on me that the foods that are commonly available to us…virtually ALL “fast food” at that time…was not just “unhealthy,” it was flat out dangerous. There was literally no actually nutritional purpose for it, whatsoever; other than to keep us all addicted to salt, sugar, fat, and carbs.

And in my mind (and I am speaking for only myself now) I started to consider McDonalds, Burger King, Wendy’s, etc….as if they were liquor stores or drug houses.

This is perhaps an image that may offend you. All I can say is, ever since that image first popped into my head, I am convinced that framing fast food this way has helped SAVE me. I continue this thinking to this day.

For my OWN health, when I see a McDonalds, I think “Crack House.” When I see a Long John Silvers, I think “Liquor Store.”

It mentally helps me in a way that may not help you, but there you have it.

All this eventually led to big changes in the way we eat as a family, and eventually to a lot more exercise. Somewhere in here, Dennise also got much healthier, and she has also lost quite a bit of weight, and could tell her own story. We helped and encouraged each other a lot. Between us, we’ve lost something like 160 pounds.

That’s a whole person.

I had been a cyclist years before. But when I started this journey, I was so heavy that I literally could not get on my bike. I would have blown the tires.

So, first I started by walking. I took long walks, almost every night. I started monitoring my food intake with an app (My Fitness Pal) and counting my steps.

I eventually lost 20-25 pounds, just this way. (Walking is amazing exercise, when paired with eating well…)

That got me down to a weight where I could start riding my bike again. Which has, eventually, led to a loss of between 80-90 pounds total. (Although…I’m just coming off my my WORST holiday season in about six years….and I’ve bounced up some…)

Probably about 2 or 3 years ago now, people started to really notice the weight loss, and commenting quite a bit. It’s been a gradual decline, not a sharp one. Nutritionists tell me this is good. And it’s really been a 5-7 year process, not a 2 to 3 year one.

Here’s the Data Over the Years

And near the end of it now, I feel way, way better overall. Yes, I’m gonna die, and yes I have definitely aged. I get that. No question.

But recently, somebody told me that Dr. Kenneth Cooper has reframed the way he talks about aging in a way that makes total sense to me. He says what we should visualize, by being healthier, is not necessarily longevity, but better quality of life. We should work on these things to change the “bell curve” of our own demise.

We all dream about peacefully falling down dead at an old age, with no pain and little fuss.

But the only folks who actually do that are usually those in pretty good shape, who eat well and exercise as long into their lives as they can.

Those who don’t exercise, or don’t eat well? They actually have a slow, steady, and often painful decline…over years if not decades. They end up in bed for months and years. This was exactly what I had been seeing, observationally, by making hospital visits to church members for almost 30 years now.

So, it’s really not even about looking better for me. And although I appreciate the compliments, I don’t let them flatter me. Because the addicted person, the fat person, is always still in there. This journey has been about FEELING better in whatever time I have left in this life…any compliments I get about looking better are a gravy (food metaphor) and actually usually make me quite uncomfortable. I liked myself at every size. But I *feel better,* much better, these days. And that’s why I do it.

Eating better foods literally makes my body feel BETTER.
Not morally better. Physically better. This distinction was also a huge insight for me. For years, I had assumed that people who ate healthily and exercised perhaps looked down on people like me, or saw themselves as morally better. Maybe some do. Frankly, I now just have compassion on anyone who is struggling with weight or health issues.

For ME, what eating better does is help me feel PHYSICALLY better. I had no idea this was a “thing.” I had no idea that food as fuel, rather than as a drug, could even have that effect.

But this journey is a constant challenge. I’m quite clear that this addiction to bad food and poor health is a lifelong issue, and not something I will one day move beyond. I keep going to therapy, keep riding my bike, keep pushing myself to eat better even when I fall off the wagon.

And! I try to speak to myself with a combination of both stridence and love, decisiveness and compassion. Beating myself up about it never helps…in fact, that’s no doubt what kept me stuck for years.

What I try to tell myself is now, in love, what Tim McLemore told me years ago now.

“Eric,” I say to myself, “I want you to be around for a long time…I don’t want you to die early.”

I tell this story now (and, as I said, I’ve waited…and been afraid to tell…for several years…) because I know I am not alone. I know that there are friends of mine reading this right now who perhaps need some encouragement to get started, or who perhaps even feel hopeless.

Hopefully, this story has helped you. Or maybe it’s just pissed you off, like I originally was with Tim. Or maybe it makes you sad. I don’t know. I’m not gonna judge you, or try to mind read your feelings. I know I’d occasionally read “success stories” back when I had not started the journey, and either be angry or depressed.

I tell this story to give you a realistic sense of what it took for ME…just how many months and years it took me to finally *start* some action…and how after I took that action it still took months and years to see so called “results.”

I think that’s honest and important to say. I didn’t have any one lightbulb moment, one flash of inspiration when my “heart was strangely warmed.” It took lots of small events, learnings, and a gradual dawning inside my soul.

Perhaps this very post might become one of those moments for you.

I will say this, and I think it’s important: We Christians are TERRIBLE at true “self love.” And we ministers and church leaders are even worse than average Christians.

This is ironic, since loving ourselves is one-third of the most important commandment Jesus ever gave us.

But Carole Carsey helped me reframe this, and helped me remember that self-love is never self-ish. It’s required by God. And if we not loving ourselves, (“as our neighbor,” and “as God”) then we are not really living out the Great Commandment.

I had to reframe what it meant to be truly self-loving. I had to re-remember that failing to care for my health is NOT the “self-sacrifice” Jesus calls me to. In fact, it’s not self sacrifice at all. Pretending that it is is one of many lies that we in “The Church” tell ourselves.

We say…
“I sacrifice a lot for my…family…church…spouse….career…Therefore, I deserve those dozen brownies.”

It’s not a way of either rewarding yourself, OR of proving that you’re a sacrificial servant.

It’s just “time-release suicide.” Nothing more.

Almost every day, I have to go back and re-remember that self care is important. I have to fight against devaluing it, or making excuses that I have other, more “important” things to do. I have to fight against morally licensing myself to eat an entire pound cake or whatever enticing food/drug is in front of me at the moment. The struggle *never* ends.

And, as for exercise, as an Enneagram 4, I’m especially prone to guilt and shame.

The way I describe it is: Every single time I exercise…especially long rides…. I am thinking to myself “I could/should be doing something else.”

Every. Single. Time.

If you do that too, just know that your health (and mine) is important. So, don’t listen to that voice.

Good health is the best “reward” you can give yourself. Not an extra brownie.

So, I write this in love…like Tim McLemore once lovingly talked to me, even as it took me years to understand it.

Just start.
Just do…something.
Make a small change.

If you can’t ride a bike, walk.
If you can’t walk a mile, walk a half mile.
If you can’t walk a half mile, walk a quarter mile.
If it’s too much to cut out all fast foods today, just cut out a little start with. (But do me a favor, and read up on just how bad they are for you, and how they are DESIGNED to addict you…)
If you don’t know where to start, get an app that tracks your calories, and do that. (If for no other reason that you’ll learn the eye-opening science behind calories, body movement, and health.)

Start the journey…down the path….
You can do it.

It’s like the film “Shawshank Redemption,” which I wrote about a few weeks back. Take out that rock hammer and work at it a little every day. If it depresses you to think of how far you have to go, or how many times you have failed before, just know that every day you change to better habits is a day where you are headed the right direction. Progress is progress, regardless of result.
And you will FEEL BETTER, even if the results don’t appear immediately.

This is my story. These are the ways of framing the issues that have helped me, and that I have secretly used to help me on my path. None of it may help you. But it does, I’ll be deeply humbled to have helped you some.

Last week at the Arboretum.

This is a spiritual and emotional journey, every bit as much as a physical one. Don’t let anybody kid you about that, and don’t let anyone tell you that it’s “easy.” It’s not easy. Some of the best things in life aren’t easy.

But it’s worth it, and YOU are worth it.

I don’t want to see you commit time-release suicide.

I want you to be around a long time….and I don’t want you to die early.

(Coda: Tim McLemore swears that he does not remember the conversation referenced in this post.)

]]>https://wheneftalks.com/2019/01/13/recovering-from-time-release-suicide/feed/0profilepicturesericfolkerthJournalism Mattershttps://wheneftalks.com/2019/01/09/journalism-matters/
https://wheneftalks.com/2019/01/09/journalism-matters/#respondWed, 09 Jan 2019 15:38:47 +0000http://wheneftalks.com/?p=3916Perhaps the biggest news in our area this week has been a pretty massive layoff at the The Dallas Morning News.

For all sorts of reasons, I’ve always felt a special kinship with journalists. I studied to be one (Bachelors in Journalism from UT Austin), and over the years I’ve had the good fortune to be interviewed by a good many fine reporters; including some of those who were unceremoniously fired this week.

My biggest concern is for the *people* let go. But along with this is a concern for the ongoing contraction and consolidation of the media. For all of my adult life, I’ve watched journalist friends get laid off. I’d guess that majority of those I knew in J-school are no longer beat reporters of any kind, anywhere…and some not even doing any form of what we might call “content creation” generally.

For me, this all means a loss of accountability of local government, which is troubling.

I found it ironic that almost while this news was breaking, the DNM (Robert Wilonsky) published a detailed account of significant waste and fraud in the convention and visitors bureau.

The role of the press is more important than ever to the health of our democracy. We may differ with the editorial views of the owners and publishers. (I certainly have with the DMN. And, frankly, the DMN has published a few truly head scratching endorsements in recent years.…)

But no matter how you feel about the *institution,* I hope you can feel compassion and respect for the *reporters.*

And I can’t help but feel these layoffs are a part of a greater societal problem today with the internet and “free” content.

As with music and musicians, journalists should be paid for their work, and news organizations must have a sustainable financial path to survive. Yes, it’s on them to create lean organizations that can be flexible and adapt to new media.

But it’s also on US to sustain those organizations with our dollars.

The answer can’t be “free.” But, we seem to want our news free, just like we want our music free.

But free is not sustainable.

It takes money to launch large scale investigations that hold government accountable. For example, the New York Times published a stunningly detailed accounting of the Trump family finances a few months back. (Have you read it? You should…)

There’s NO WAY that an independent journalist with a laptop and blog could have written that report. It took years of research by a team, and literally a room filled with documents dedicated to the task.

More and more, it seems to me, that accountability function of journalism is in jeopardy. And that very much concerns me.

So, my prayer is for all these journalists and their families not any specific paper or corporation. I hope they land on their feet soon.

And my broader concern is for our democracy, that we value journalism with our dollars, so that good quality journalism can continue during this crucial time for our nation.

The President and his administration are *lying* when they claim there’s a “crisis” at the border.
The President and his administration are *lying* about the alleged “facts” they use to justify this fake “crisis.”

Many observers suggest these lies could be used to declare a so-called “state of emergency” (which would be another lie), and which *might* then allow him a justification to build the “wall.” If so, it would be without congressional approval, without Mexico paying for it (another lie), and *with* American taxpayers footing the bill.

It is entirely possible that during his address to the nation tonight, the President will declare this very “state of emergency.” That’s why I’m writing this in the morning…to get out ahead of that possibility.

If he does declare an “emergency” tonight, or at any point in the future, I simply want you to remember this post: Remember that it will be a lie, built on a lie, built on a lie.

A wall of lies.

Let’s start at the beginning…

FACT ONE: There is no crisis on the border.*

According to the statistics from US Customs and Border Protection, border crossings are at or near historic thirty year LOWS. (Please see attached picture) Fewer and fewer persons are crossing at the southern border. This has been true since the first day of the Trump presidency, and was true the first day Trump ever talked about building a wall. There has NEVER, during the presidency of Donald Trump, been a crisis on the border. (That is a factually accurate statement).*

FACT TWO: There are NOT 4,000 terrorists, streaming across the southern border. That is, quite simply, a lie. Chris Wallace, of FOX News, fact-checked this in real time with an administration member the other day. There *are* on average 4,000 total “persons of interest” (not terrorists) who enter the US by all methods….planes, trains, automobiles…etc… The WHOLE of the country…all methods of entry…and the vast majority, except for a tiny, statistically insignificant number, come via airplane.

Over the weekend, both the President and, more troubling, the Director of Homeland Security, LIED about this situation. They clearly lied about the 4,000 number, in the attempt to make it seem as if 4,000 terrorists were streaming across the southern border.

Again, they are not. This is a lie.

And it’s even more concerning to me that the Director of Homeland Security is lying about this.

If she’s willing to lie about this, why should we believe her if and when where is an actual emergency and she’s trying to get out actual information.

The vast majority of the “persons of interest” (they are not all terrorists, nor are a majority terrorists…) of them come through airports. Most of them are dealt with by TSA, not Border Patrol.

BTW, recall that TSA staff are not being paid right now, because of the government shut down.

FACT THREE: Mexico is not paying for the wall.
Not now. Not ever.
So, either a) it won’t be built, b) people falsely believe Mexico will pay back a $5 billion dollar loan, or c) the American taxpayer will pay for it.

Guess which is most likely? (Hint: Not “b”)

FACT FOUR: Children are STILL separated from their parents along our southern border. Go ahead, look it up. Even though the administration was ordered to shut down this process by the courts, there are still more than a thousand separated kids, just here in Texas. Some are being released to “sponsors” and not their parents. It’s a huge mess of our government’s own doing, and despite the fact that it was supposed to be over months ago, it’s still ongoing today.

So, these are the big lies that are continually fed to us by the President. And as I said, I feel led to call them out today, because I am convinced Trump is getting ready to declare a “state of emergency.” I’m pretty clear he’s been told by all his advisors that he won’t win funding for the wall. He’s backed himself into a corner. He hates to “lose,” even though in this case “losing” would simply be the act of governing under normal checks and balances.

So, instead of governing under our system, he’ll create this false “emergency” built on a wall of lies.

Do you know what is NOT a lie?

The word of God is not a lie.

And the word of God is very clear on immigration.

God’s holy people are called, Christians are called, to treat the foreigner and the immigrant the same as the native born.

“Because you were once an immigrant.”

That is a truth that repeats, over and over, in the Bible. The Bible is very clear, and it is a lie to claim that the Biblical witness is anything different from this.

I was arrested at the White House, defending the rights of immigrants. I have pictures on my wall, here in the study, to remind me of that moment. I’m thinking we are very close to the time where civil disobedience may be called for again on this issue. If Trump declares an emergency to build a wall, that might very well be the moment.

We need to fix our immigrant system, no doubt. As I’ve written many times, politicians on all sides and over decades, have gotten us to where we are today, by not providing honest, fact-based fixes.

I know one thing very clearly: God’s truth is a call to love and treat the immigrant the same as the citizen.

Anything else is a wall of lies.

*Beyond the “crisis” that Trump himself has manufactured by separating families, sending the army, and generally promoting unnecessary hysteria.

One of my favorite films is “The Shawshank Redemption.” And as the year “turns,” I am thinking about that film, about its lead character, and about a concept I write about almost every year at this time: “Resolve to Not Resolve.”

The film was based on the short story by Stephen King, called “Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption.”
(btw: spoiler alerts, and an assumed familiarity with this classic film, follow…)

Andy Dufresne (played by Tim Robbins in the film…), was an expert at how to “Resolve to Not Resolve.”

Before I get into that, it’s now time for my almost annual plea to you:

If you want to do great things in 2019, whatever you do, DON’T make public New Year’s Resolutions.
Don’t make a big, outward show of the inward changes you want to make in your life.
Instead, as NIKE says, “Just do it.”

I first learned this from entrepreneur, Derek Sivers, and his TED Talk. The moment I heard it the concept, I knew I was hearing something deeply wise that I needed to pay attention to. (The next section is lifted from some previous writing I’ve done on this…)

Sivers cites this data: “Tests done since 1933 show that people who talk about their intentions are less likely to make them happen. Announcing your plans to others satisfies your self-identity just enough that you’re less motivated to do the hard work needed.“

Interesting, huh?

The psychology is like this:
— You resolve to be a runner.
— You tell everybody.
— You do out and buy running shoes.
— You admire your new shoes, and your brain says “HEY! I’m a runner.”
— You never, or rarely, ever do actual running.

Since I first wrote that last series of sentences, I’ve learned much more about brain chemistry and function. I’ve learned that when brain scientists hook us up to machines they find that THINKING about a thing is exactly the same as DOING a thing….at least inside the brain. Right down to a slight release of feel-good dopamine.

We THINK about being a runner?
We trick ourselves into believing we have ALREADY run…that we are already a runner.

When, in fact, all we’ve done is buy the shoes.

BTW, the department stores?

They KNOW you’re gonna do this. Pay attention. They put the running shoes, the exercise equipment, the spandex pants…right up in the front window during these weeks of late December/January.

They don’t *care* whether or not you will ever BE a runner.
They care about selling you the shoes.

So, how do we make progress toward our goals this year?

First, don’t make public resolutions.
Or, if you do, understand that the public resolution by itself is never enough. It’s not enough to just DECLARE it.
You’ve got to “Just DO it.”

The problem for many of us is that resolutions function as this very kind of short-circuit I’ve been describing here. We fail at resolutions, not because we are inherently weak, but because resolutions are never enough on their own.

Now, *some* folks do seem to understand and embrace this difference between being and doing. They make a resolution, and then they do it. And then they report back on how they have done it.

I both admire and HATE those guys.

Because it never works that way for me. I make the resolution, and I end up stopping there.

For me what’s become far more important is “holding an inward intention.”

Inwardly. Meaning: without telling anyone. But, instead, by DOING small things toward the goal every day.

Being a runner means resolving INWARDLY to do it. It’s not about the gear. It’s not about *one* Saturday you actually get out a run. It’s about *every day.*
Being a songwriter isn’t about wearing a black leather jacket, and striking a pose. It’s about writing songs and learning the craft.
Being a cyclist isn’t about wearing a yellow jersey or tight shorts. It’s about working at being a cyclist every day. It’s about riding when you don’t want to, and when the weather is bad.

Whatever your goal…being a runner…or a cyclist….or a novelist….or a songwriter….an entrepreneur…or anything else….it’s about being these things EVERY day.

Inwardly, not just outwardly.

And this is where Andy Dufresne steps in as our Patron Saint of “Just Do It.”

Be Andy Dufresne. Be the one who is in PRISON, and yet never loses hope. Be the one who works a little, every day, for YEARS toward their goal.

Be that one who chips away at overwhelming stone with a small rock hammer.

He never quits. He never stops. And! He never tells a soul what he’s doing.

For all the world knows (even his closest friends), he just looks up at that movie poster on his wall. (In the book, it’s Rita Hayworth. In the movie, it’s Raquel Welch.

Day after day, everyone else in the external world thinks Andy is leering at Raquel.

What he’s really doing is looking at his path to freedom….the hole he is slowly digging behind…

At one point Andy Dufresne says this: “That there are things in this world not carved out of gray stone. That there’s a small place inside of us they can never lock away, and that place is called hope.”

Hope, in the spiritual sense, is always beyond the event-horizon of this world. But, to KEEP hope, we need small victories along the way. And, if our hope is to do great things, we must allow those small victories to light the path of our future hope, and not depress us that we have not travelled farther.

It’s tricky. Too much contentment and self-satisfaction can lead us to believe we are “done,” when we are very much still “digging.” Too much desire to change NOW can lead us to believe the stone is too thick, and the hammer too small, and the task impossible.

In th end, whatever goals you may have for this coming year, I’m here to tell you that you can do them.

But it’s far more important to be Andy Dufresne every single day, than to just publish a resolution on New Year’s Day.

It’s far more important to hold an interior intention that you work toward with singularity and focus, than to surround yourself with external trappings and markers.

Resolve to not resolve. Resolve to just do it.

Lift up your rock hammer, and start chipping away at the stone.

And, next year on this same day?

You’ll be amazed how far you’ve come.

]]>https://wheneftalks.com/2019/01/01/a-rock-hammer-not-resolutions/feed/049702389_10218541024821206_4860067352999362560_oericfolkerthA Peaceful Nighthttps://wheneftalks.com/2018/12/25/a-peaceful-night/
https://wheneftalks.com/2018/12/25/a-peaceful-night/#respondTue, 25 Dec 2018 22:27:00 +0000http://wheneftalks.com/?p=3904After our worship services last night, I had a really great Christmas Eve with The Judge and The Divine Miss M. I am only now able to write about it.

We snuck into Calle Doce on Skillman for Christmas Eve margaritas and Mexican food just before closing time.
Because, why not?

From there, we drove down Swiss for a bit on the way home, admiring all the lights.

We were looking for John Lennon’s “And So This Is Christmas” on my iPhone, but could only find “Give Peace A Chance.”

In the quiet of Christmas Eve, surrounded by the twinkling lights on houses, it somehow it seemed to fit. It was a moment.

After all, the angels sing about Peace on Earth, right?

When we got home, we all helped in the kitchen, making stuffing and an apple pie. We lit the Advent Wreath and a fire in the hearth for the evening.

Also, I’d ordered a print of Mary’s Magnificat from Benjamin Wildflower. It’s an image I’ve shared many times on FB over the years, and talked about in sermons. I finally ordered a print a few weeks back, since I never get a T-shirt ordered in time before he runs out.

I still might get this as a tattoo. But for now, the print will go well above my writing desk.

Anyway, the point is, the print just so happened to come in the mail on Christmas Eve.

Of *course* it did.

Turns out, there’s a new church start a few blocks away. A reboot of an old neighborhood Baptist church that’s been slowly fading for some time.

They advertised a late service at 11 pm. And so, we walked over and, with small crowd of about 20 folks, lit candles and sang “Silent Night” one more time.
Again…because, why not?

It was beautiful. And mighty nice to be able to walk together to a Christmas Eve service and just worship together.

Finally, we had nice moment with The Divine Miss M, during our traditional Christmas Eve gift exchange. We traditionally open one gift each on Christmas Eve.

Maria picked the box (a gift from both of us to her) that was tickets to see Paul McCartney in June.

I picked a package from her…that turned out to be an LP of Sir Paul’s latest, “Egypt Station.”

You can’t make this stuff up.

It was kinda like “Gift of the Magi,” if nobody had to give up a pocket watch and the combs were Paul McCartney.

As I said, a great, peaceful night.
I’m so lucky to be able to spend it with them, and to have these two wonderful women as my family.

]]>https://wheneftalks.com/2018/12/25/a-peaceful-night/feed/048963765_10218497907743306_5405180526283718656_nericfolkerthMerry Christmas, Everyonehttps://wheneftalks.com/2018/12/25/merry-christmas-everyone/
https://wheneftalks.com/2018/12/25/merry-christmas-everyone/#respondTue, 25 Dec 2018 15:20:45 +0000http://wheneftalks.com/?p=3901
]]>https://wheneftalks.com/2018/12/25/merry-christmas-everyone/feed/0hqdefaultericfolkerthChristmas Message, 2018https://wheneftalks.com/2018/12/24/christmas-message-2018/
https://wheneftalks.com/2018/12/24/christmas-message-2018/#respondTue, 25 Dec 2018 00:00:41 +0000http://wheneftalks.com/?p=3897One of the things I have always dearly loved about our East Dallas neighborhood is how it’s a beautiful and somewhat chaotic mix of all kinds of people living together in one place. It’s folks from all walks of life *choosing* to live next to those who are quite different from them.

One minute, you’ll spy a Lexus cruise down the block, followed by a homeless woman, pushing her shopping cart. One second, there’s a old Latino man pushing a “Helados” cart, followed by a young mother pushing a baby stroller. We have new families moving in all the time…even into houses down the block where once there were drive-by shootings. (no joke).

People of all ages, races, sexual orientations, and economics live all crammed into these few little blocks, in the shadow of downtown Dallas.

A few blocks from there, there are million dollars mansions.
Once upon a time, the police found a dead body in our alley behind our house.

I know that’s stark.

But there’s something ALIVE within that starkness. There is something very beautiful , and very holy. I tell friends that it reminds me of the Christmas story.

The Christmas story is about INCARNATION.

God come to earth, to live among us. God born in a stable. In a backward land, in a backward time, to a couple of nobody-parents.

Speaking of stark and horrifying, the most shocking description I have ever heard of Christ’s incarnation comes from one line written by Frederick Buechner. He once called Christmas,

“Ultimate Mystery born with a skull you could crush one-handed.”

That is both horrifying, and the holy heart of it all, isn’t it?
The Word become flesh. God and humanity connected together.

God came in the form of a small human child, to show how vulnerability, weakness and frailty are not just the attributes of human beings. They are also the attributes of God.

This world crushes the vulnerable, the weak, and the frail…over and over and over. But we are called to stand up for these things, anyway. And to USE our very vulnerability to do something beautiful for the world.

Christ’s incarnation is a reminder that there is no place, there is no person, there are no groups of people, who are ever fully beyond God’s grace.

As I like to say, Christmas destroys the idea that any PLACE is “God-forsaken.”
…Or any PERSON.
…Or any THING.

There is no meaning to the words “God forsaken.”

As Jesus himself says in Matthew 25, when we love the least, the lost, and the forgotten, we don’t just “sort of” love God. We LITERALLY love and serve God…because God is incarnate in those places.

(The parable of the Last Judgement is really a Christmas story…)

This world, and every single person in it, is touched and grace and kissed with the presence of God. All things have the possibility of being holy things. All people have God’s holiness.

But! To see it, to embrace it, to understand it fully the way God wants us to, we’ve got to push it to the extremes. We’ve got to understand it in its fullness.

God live in a part of ALL human beings…

The teacher, and the terrorist…
The pastor, and the prostitute…
The Sunday Schooler, and the drug dealer…

All. Of. Them.
NO PERSON is ever “God-forsaken,” whoever they are, or whatever they have done.

By the way, that also goes also for the two most polarizing labels in our world today: the “Deplorables” and the “Illegals.”

There is NO SUCH THING as a person who is “deplorable,” and there is no such thing as human beings who is “illegal.”

In labeling anyone in this way, we not only dehumanize them, but we also de-SACRALIZE them too.

That’s actually the worst part of these kinds of labels. Because they not only make people seem less than human, but they also tear away at the sacred nature of all human beings too.

By the way, as I have said before, the worst thing Secretary Clinton said was not just that some people are “deplorable,” but that they are, and I quote her now, “irredeemable.”

See, this is the desacralization I am talking about! I continue to be surprised that nobody picked up on that.

Or, maybe they did.

Maybe that’s why some folks have *embraced* the monicker “deplorable.” Yes, they tend to use it in jest. But it’s also sad, too.

They are not “deplorable” to God.
They are God-kissed like every other human person.

And, those who we carelessly and thoughtlessly call “Illegals?”
They are not, in their personhood “illegal.”
No human being is.
They too are God-kissed like every other human being.

We probably ought to remember that before he was two Jesus was both a migrant and a refugee, and in both cases pushed into this status by the power and might of the Empire.

Back to the little “Hood” where we live for a minute…

When I was cleaning out my study earlier this week, I found this note, apparently tucked away for years in a dusty box. It’s from a man named “Johnny,” who used to come by our house “back in the day…”

Johnny, and his girlfriend, Marilyn, were homeless. They moved in and out of shelters. I would guess they probably had trouble with drugs.

They once told me Marilyn was pregnant. It was around Christmas. I was a sucker. We gave them lots of money over the years that they always promised to repay, and almost never did.

I had not recalled that they left their belongings on our porch, but apparently they did. I don’t know what happened to them. We moved. We lost touch. I hadn’t thought of them in years.

I feel confident now that Johnny was a con man and a hustler.

But he was also a child of God too. He had the divine spark in them.

The homeless always are.

I hope you have the gift of being around people who are *different* from you. I hope you don’t live behind a wall this Christmas; either a physical or spiritual one.

During this next year, I hope you get the Christmas gift of hanging out with the wealthy and the homeless. Because it can change you to live this way, and to be reminded of how God is present in all things.

As I said, I’m pretty sure Johnny and Marlyn hustled us. (I learned more about them later from a friend who worked with the homeless. Yep. We were hustled…)

And if you are going to love God’s children —all of them— in the incarnational way that Jesus calls us to, then you are gonna get hustled. You are going to get played. You will be taken advantage of. People will break your heart, people will be ungrateful, time and time again. You will wonder why you even try.

Love them, anyway.
Serve them, anyway.
See God in them, anyway.

It’s not up to you to “fix” people, even within your own family. That’s up to God to do.

But love them. See the God in them, even when they don’t see God in themselves.
And, by the way, see the God in yourself too.

We are both human and holy.
We are both earthly and heavenly.
We are both sinner and saint.

Because we are human beings graced and kissed with the love of God. That’s the true Good News of the incarnation of Jesus.

Wes Magruder invited me to be his guest on his “In-CAR-Nation Talk” show…a shameless rip off of both Jerry Seinfeld and James Cordon, where-in we drive around my East Dallas neighborhood, and talk Christmas and Incarnational Theology. It was pretty humorous and pretty fun, and we got to talk about one one of my favorite songs from the great Billy Jonas.

“It only takes a sparkTo get a fire goingAnd soon all those aroundCan warm up in its glowingThat’s how it is with God’s loveOnce you’ve experienced itYou spread His love to ev’ryoneYou want to pass it on”— Kurt Kaiser

The early history of me and the guitar is inextricably tied to my early history with the church, and with one very special song by the great Kurt Kaiser.

I’m not alone in this.
There are very likely millions of folks my age who remember Kaiser’s iconic song, “Pass It On.”

We sang that song every week, at the conclusion of our UMYF song-time at First UMC, Richardson. And for a few short, glorious years —which somehow feel like they still go on forever— I was one of the kids who led the singing with my guitar.

It was the late 1970s. And as the great Dr. Dick Murray used to teach at Perkins, in those days youth ministry was comprised of “folks who believed you had to hold hands and play guitar.”

The Eagles and Jackson Browne (and, eventually, Dan Fogelberg) were kings of the radio. And Kurt Kaiser was the king of Christian youth music.

And to me, it was all one piece. One “thing.”

I never grew up with the hard separation between “secular” and “sacred” music that I later learned other people did. I played it all –the stuff on the radio, the stuff from Youth Group– sitting in my room, on my Yamaha guitar, practicing for hours and hours. It was all “music.” It all moved me, spoke to me, and nobody shamed or told me anything different.

I mention this last point because, as I grew, I came to understand others grew up differently in their faith/music experience as teenagers. People in more fundamentalists backgrounds grew up believing that Pop/Rock music of was of the devil, and that only Christian music should be played. I have, to this day, never understood that division. I mean, I understand the words. I just can’t understand the experience, because it wasn’t mine.

For me, it was all one thing. It was Music. It was Spirit. It was sometimes silly, and sometimes sacred, and sometimes moved you to tears…and there was no hard division between the two.

I took my first guitar lessons in the 8th Grade at Westwood Junior High (note: Yes, they offered guitar in public schools back then…). That led to hours and hours, practicing “Peaceful, Easy Feeling” and “Take It Easy” in my bedroom by myself. I had songbooks of 70s Country-Rock, and a copy of Yohanne Anderson’s book, “Songs and Creations.”

The latter was the Bible of Youth Group music. The Sargent Pepper’s of 70s youth group guitar players.

And I loved it all. I especially loved The Eagles, early on; because, since their guitar was dominant, you could strum the chords in your bedroom, and vaguely approximate the recordings you loved from the radio.

It makes me laugh a bit to realize how the barely pubescent me belted out, “I wanna sleep you with in the desert tonight…”

I know I had no idea what I was singing about.

But the idea of sleeping under the stars?
That sounded awesome.

I practiced and practiced this stuff. I started writing songs…really BAD songs….those lyrics sheets are still on a shelf behind me here, somewhere.

It was my friend, Stu Roberts, who first invited me to play guitar in public, at church, at the youth group. We idolized the kids who were just a few years older than us, playing guitar and leading the group. And, as we grew older, we became those kids. And, to this day, I run into friends from that era, who tell me they remember these moments, and our playing guitar.

At our weekly UMYF Group, we spent 15-20 minutes a week in a gathered group before splitting off by grades. Yes, by grades. It as HUGE group. Sometimes 150 kids or so on a Sunday night (not an exaggeration), all gathered together in the upper room of Middlebrooks Hall.

We called it “SingSong, and we would sings songs out of “Songs and Creations.”

Again, it made perfect sense to me. In that book, there were “secular” folk songs, and Christians songs too. There was no separation. The book contained songs from Peter Paul and Mary, and the Beatles. There were folk songs by Bob Dylan, and John Denver.
And….there was “Pass It On.”

“Pass It On,” was the “Take It Easy” of Christian youth group songs.

Whatever else we sang, we always “closed” with that one.

We guitar players would stand in the midst of the circle, Stu with his twelve string Guild, me with my gut-string Yamaha, and we’d lead the kids in this song.

“What a wondrous time is springWhen all the trees are buddingThe birds begin to singThe flowers start their bloomingThat’s how it is with God’s loveOnce you’ve experienced itYou want to sing it’s fresh like springYou want to pass it on”

When I pause to think back, there is really no more deep and abiding imprinted musical memory inside my soul than this one. I can still picture the moment…

Us with our guitars.
Boys in their muscle shirts.
Girls in their “short-shorts.”
Everybody with their summer tans, and their John Travolta and Farah Fawcett feathered hair.
Kids wearing “Boston” and “Kansas” t-shirts.
Kids wearing church youth group t-shirts, “Richardson Eagle” and “Pearce Mustang” shirts.

And the hundreds of kids, holding hands, and swaying together to the music as we sang this song.

Kurt Kaiser died this week.

This is, of course, what causes all these memories to well back up into my soul. A few posts from old fogie-friends around my age have helped the memories come flooding back.

I haven’t thought about Kaiser, or about “Pass It On,” for a couple of decades. Heck, I haven’t played “Pass It On” for a couple of decades.

I doubt there are many Youth groups at all who still play it. It sort of fell out of favor over time. I’m sure folks got sick of it. It happens.

I mean, when was the last time you heard anybody play “Blowing in the Wind” non-ironically?

Newer generations always create their own traditions, and this is as it should be. Soon after, both Contemporary Christian and Pop/Rock music moved toward the synthesized and away from the folkie. Interestingly, I sort of drifted away from contemporary Christian music in the that period.

“Christian culture” became more exclusive during the 1980s…more willing to critique, in soft and hard forms, the alleged “mushiness” of a theology that would embrace both Bob Dylan and Kurt Kaiser.

Christian music became the balkanized form it remains to this day. But, that balkanization was but a symptom of a broader cultural movement that can be seen as…

“Secular” = “Bad”“Christian” = “Good”

Those messages were just starting to seep into the culture, in the late 1970s, as we strummed those guitars.

This was increasingly the message of the 1980s “Christian culture.”

Again, as I’ve said and written many times, this message didn’t make sense to me. It was not then, nor is it to this day, my experience. But that harder division increasingly led me in two outwardly ironic existential directions:

Toward a calling as a clergy person…Away from the increasingly balkanized format of “CCM.”

I was not a fan of 80s Pop, nor 80s CCM. Musically, the 80s felt like (and still does) a wasteland to me. (Sorry, Gen Xers, this is the one sharp dividing line between us…)

I hibernated into the world of folk music, and for myriad reasons –much having to do with the increasing division I’ve just described– landed on the “secular” side, musically. And that’s pretty much where I’ve been ever since.

(Although, I must observe, much of the newest Christian stuff seems to be very acoustic-driven, like “Mumford and Son” wanna-bes. And that makes this old folkie smile…)

So, even though I have not played “Pass It On” for decades, as soon as I hit “send” here, I’m gonna pick up my guitar and play it today. (Update: Here you go…)

Because I realized this week that I must include “Pass It On” in the list of my all-time favorite songs.

Without “Pass It On,” I would never have learned how to play guitar in front of a crowd.
I would never have kept playing, or had a reason to practice.
I would have never have eventually written/recorded my own songs, which are decided not CCM, but definitely do speak of Spirit and holiness in exactly the way the “Songs and Creations” book first taught me.
I would have never found my way to my folk music tribe, and places like Kerrville.
I would have never have had the courage to play the live shows I play now. (Youth group taught me that I could play in front of people…)
I wouldn’t be playing with Connections….with whom, ironically, I’ve been able to perform almost all of my other “all time favorite songs” from 1970s classic rock.

NONE of that happens, without Stu asking me to play guitar at youth group, and without the two of us and our friends, time and time and time again, playing “Pass It On” for those youth group kids.

I’m confident I’m not the only one with this kind of story about this one song, which is what drives me to post this today.

So, God bless you, Kurt Kaiser.
May you rest in peace.
And I hope you have a sense of just how important you and your song were, and are, to so many of us.

You most definitely changed my life.

“I wish for you my friendThis happiness that I’ve foundYou can depend on HimIt matters not where you’re boundI’ll shout it from the mountain topI want my world to knowThe Lord of love has come to meI want to pass it on”— Kurt Kaiser

Here’s a video of Kurt Kaiser talking about his life and musical legacy.

Last night, I had this brief moment of peace and beauty that has stayed with me through this morning. I was walking through the sideyard, past the wood pile, crunching down the decompressed granite path, a large bag of birdseed hoisted over my shoulder.

As I refilled the backyard feeders, I could feel the crisp, Fall air. I could see, even in the darkness, the beginnings of the leaves on the ground, and knew how many more, and many acorns too, are about to follow.

I realized again how much I have come to appreciate the changing of season. Even with as much as I love Summer, there’s a time for it to go. I thought about how I soon need to go get some wood for that woodpile, and how warm the fires are in the hearth during winter. All of this gave me a peaceful calm.

Then, The Judge and me spent a few quiet moments on the front porch, sipping some hot chocolate. We both have busy, stressful jobs, and we’d been talking some about that earlier in the evening.

But in that moment, as we simply watching the candles of our family “Ofrenda” as they flickered, and remembered the generations of people whose lives and sacrifices had brought us to that moment right there…ancestors from Europe and Mexico….generations in Central Ohio, South and East Texas….

We thought about what a joy it was to have all the kids come by the night before…what a joy it was to have our family with us too.

I thought about the various ways in which so many cultures honor the past, and honor their “ancestors” or Saints. In Mexican tradition, through the Ofrenda. In the Church, through “All Saints Day,” as we will celebrate Sunday. I remembered that earlier in the day I’d seen a picture of cemeteries in Poland, and how they get lit up with candles…much like Mexican ones….during these days of the year.

So then, this morning, with all that still on my heart, I awoke to the changing of the morning light.

During winter, the Sun shifts so that the morning light comes more directly in through the front windows, and on to the front porch. And, for just a brief moment, it streams through the “Papel PIcado,” the paper flags we’ve temporarily placed along the porch.

I thought about what a blessing this simple thing is during a cold season, and how that little light helps warm the house…

But! I thought of how I have nothing to do with that either. It’s just a small grace, and I was blessed to notice it….just as I was blessed to notice the crunching leaves, the Fall chill, and the creaking porch swing, the night before.

And I remembered a conversation, just yesterday, with a member of The Woods, who talked about a “Saint” of our church, and how this particular Saint had a childlike “sense of wonder” that was contageous, and that helped this person slow down, and enjoy the grace of a specific moment of beauty and peace.

You’ve seen me write some tough, hard essays this week. I’ve circled back to concepts like “Moral Licensing,” and “Enemy-Making.” I’ve called our time, and speficially some recent words and actions of our President, “dark.”

And whether you agree with me or not, I’m sure you feel the hardshness of these days…the stress of them…the tension in the air. I don’t need to name the specifics today. You feel them.

In the midst of this, please do not miss the gift God gives you to notice the beauty, peace, and calm all around you. Whatever busyness or stress is a part of your life right now, somewhere around you today there is a light hitting a staircase in a new way, or streaming through “Papel Picado.”

Don’t miss that beauty, when it is given to you to see.

Breathe it in, and allow it to bring you small peace, in troubled times.

It’s a small message from God, sent to remind you that generations have helped bring you to this point, and that you are surrounded by “Saints” and heroes, living and dead, who will –like light on the stairs– help guide you into the future, through the grace and mercy of God.